To Turn a Villain
by Elieare
Summary: What if Kami had actually influenced young Piccolo Jr. in his childhood instead of simply allowing Daimao to have his way?  Would he ever have been an enemy then?  Or would he have become a defender for earth from the beginning and never threatened it?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do no and will not own the rights to DBZ. I'm simply tormenting the characters for my own pleasure.**

_I also have to give credit to Dreamwraith whose idea: what if Kami had interacted with young Piccolo Jr. and whose stories, From the Past and Twilight of the Dawn sparked and inspired this fanfiction. I am also working on another fanfic that isn't DBZ related so I'll be going back and forth._

**Chapter 1**

The first days of his life had been chaotic at best. He had awaken with the full extent of all of Daimao's memories and even emotions, but there were memories of a mind thousand of years old, but his brain- although it was growing faster than normal- was still that of a young child and it couldn't handle that much. As a result memories slowly receded until his mind could handle it. Although he could now comprehend most of his actions and reason through his thoughts. He'd sometimes have strange subconscious reactions to things, sometimes they would trigger a memory, and sometimes they would leave him wondering why he did what he did. The strongest was every time he saw something orange. The first time it happened it was a large orange butterfly; he became so enraged it incinerated the winged insect without even thinking about it. No memory surfaced to help him understand, just a vague impression of a name. He wondered if maybe he hated butterflies, but he didn't have the same reaction until he saw a tree completely covered with orange fruit. HE snarled and set the tree aflame. Again, no memory surfaced to help him. He knew it was the same feeling as with the butterfly, but he didn't understand what triggered it. As he came across the reaction more he placed the colour as the trigger. Why should he hate orange though? It certainly wasn't very pleasant-looking to the eyes, but it was a colour that automatically caused disgust either. His mind simply would not reveal the memory, so he suppressed the urge and would just avoid orange things as much as he could.

As he wandered he discovered he could suppress all the other urges from Daimao's memories as well, and when he did he had other feelings, curiosity being the most frequent. Subconsciously he could tell Daimao thought it was a waste of time. Why did it matter that the leaves were green like his skin? Why did it matter that the water's surface rippled when he threw stones into it instead of breaking the way everything else did? For some reason though, he kept wondering and experimenting with the world as the way he saw it. Then he realized that he kept doing it because he enjoyed it. Curiosity was something Daimao never had. So why did he? When he thought about it more, he realized that he got another joy from exploring too: going against Daimao. Maybe that was that was his real joy all along, being rebellious. Part of him believed it, but part of him felt that it was more than that. He stopped listening to Daimao all together after a little while. The only thing he couldn't ignore was how much he despised orange. His rebellion made him feel powerful, invincible. He loved it. That's when the nightmares started. He knew exactly what they were, messages from Daimao that he couldn't ignore his legacy forever. Even knowing this though, he still jumped out of his meditations in a cold sweat, shaking in fear. Scared as he was though, it only made his resolution to rebel even stronger.

Eventually he came to a huge city. He had only seen buildings like that in the nightmares, they seemed cold and distant then. But now they were fascinated, especially with all the people running around in them. Daimao's memories told him this was the perfect test for him: destroy the humans. He didn't want to though, he personally had no grief against humans. He also knew that he wouldn't enjoy killing them the way Daimao did. Whenever he saw the slayings Daimao performed he just felt sick to his stomach. He didn't have enough chi control to fly yet, so he snuck into the city on foot, and then climbed a building. He remained hidden and observed humans, everything about them fascinated him. They were so different from the impression Daimao gave him. For the most part they were happy, peaceful, or at least feigned it. To Daimao they were nothing more than primitive beasts. Occasionally he saw an argument, or a fight. He even saw crime, robberies, drunkards, druggies, scuffles between the starving people on the streets. None of this deterred him though, if anything, it intrigued him more. At the very least, even if they were as horrible as in Daimao's memories, why weren't they open about it the way Daimao was?

He paid the most attention to four specific people, both father and sons. One son was following exactly in his father's footsteps, almost a perfect copy, both in looks and attitude. They were "big business men." He didn't really understand what that meant, but he knew enough to know they were men in charge, men in power. The other was a son who didn't follow his father at all, not in mannerism, not in career. His father was an engineer, the son wanted to be an artist. Piccolo Jr. knew that his study of them directly reflected the grind he began to feel between Daimao and himself. Of course, Daimao wasn't really his father, he was himself, he was simply a reincarnation. But then again, didn't he already divide his thoughts? Hadn't he already resolved to call himself Piccolo _Jr._ not Piccolo Daimao? Hadn't he already suppressed Daimao's urges and discovered his own original ones?

The longer he watched the two pairs, the more convinced he became that the best way to describe the "relationship" between him and Daimao was a lot like a father and a son. He couldn't tell though, if he was better off being the son that rebelled, or the son that followed in his father's footsteps. The pair who differed argued often, but never physically fought, and then they would joke and laugh. The pair that were similar never argued or fought, but they never joked or laughed either. There were polite with each other, and respectful. There were different pros and cons in each relationship. The one that differed had a chaotic, unpredictable relationship, but it seemed, oddly closer. The other relationship seemed consistent, and civil…but not strong. What was more important though? Closeness or stability? The replica son seemed stronger, more powerful and more in control of his life. But the different son seemed happier and he had a different type of power. It was frustrating to Piccolo Jr. because he wanted an answer badly, but he had no help, no reference point.

One day something was different with the replica son, he wasn't politely smiling with his father. Piccolo Jr. shuffled as close to the window as possible so he could hear clearly. His ears were better than any humans, but the city was so full of noises it was hard for even him to zero in on specific conversations. Thankfully, the window was open and the father was looking out of it. Piccolo Jr. examined the sons face and shivered, no it was not the polite smile he usually had on, it was a cold sneer, like Daimao would wear when he was killing.

The father spoke, "Ah what a perfect day."

The son walked over and stood next to his father, "Yes, it certainly is a perfect day, hopefully it'll reflect in all our plans as well."

The father smiled, "I'm sure it will my boy, with our combined geniuses. After all, with your wit, the only one who could every stand in your way of gaining this company is me."

The son sneered again, "How amusing, and ironic."

The father laughed, "I suppose it is. I raised you to never let anyone stop your ascend to power, and yet I end up being the one who does so."

The son did not laugh, just kept sneering, "You misunderstand father. It's ironic, because you highlight the very reason for your death without even realizing it."

"My death? Come now my boy, I'll be alive for much longer than-" he suddenly stopped, realization twisting his face with fear and horror.

The revelation came too late though. The son gave his father a hard shoved then grabbed his fathers legs and flipped him out the window completely all while screaming, "No father don't jump, don't jump, NOOOOO!"

The door to the room burst opened and others in the company flooded in. The son had neatly positioned himself so that he looked like he was helplessly grasping for his father as he fell, he even managed to tear up a little, although he couldn't stop a corner of his lip from grinning as his father exploded in a mass of blood and bones on the concrete below. No one saw the grin but Piccolo Jr. though. When the others looked out the window and asked what happened, the son replied convincingly, "I tried to stop him- I- I tried so hard, but he was just so…determined." He collapsed in mock defeat into his father's chair; the other people believed him and genuinely pitied him.

Piccolo Jr. couldn't watch any longer. His emotions were in turmoil and numbed his mind. He saw Daimao's sneer though, transposed on the son, he saw the father's dead bodies transposed on top of Daimao's victims and he didn't understand. They seemed so civilized in their relationship and yet, and yet it ended so cruel and animal like. Maybe Daimao was right, maybe humans were just primitive beasts. Without meaning to, Piccolo Jr. went to the other father and son. As usual, the two were arguing. Piccolo Jr. paid more attention to how it ended this time though.

The father finally sighed and all his rage disappeared, "I'm sorry."

The son shifted his weight from one leg to another, but also relented, "Me too, I didn't mean it."

The father grinned, "Nor did I," he paused as if he was debating saying more and then added, "you know, no matter how often I say that you are being foolish and you won't be able to make a living as an artist, I am proud of you son, you are your own man. It's like you created your own force of nature and nothing can stop you if you choose it not to."

The son blushed and looked at his feet, fidgeting in embarrassment, "Thanks dad. I know I disappointed you by choosing art over engineering and I will achieve my goal but- I don't want to have to push past you to get it."

The father laughed, "Well then, I should take my own advice and get out of your way."

The son looked at his father, "Thanks dad."

Piccolo Jr. sat and thought long into the night. Analyzing everything he'd taken in that day. He knew well enough that Daimao would never approve of him taking a different path, but he also knew he couldn't conveniently and barbarically push Daimao out a window either, his influence would always be in him. But what should he do? Should he simply fulfill Daimao's wishes and forget this curiosity and morality he was developing, or should he rebel, and never be happy because he could never push Daimao out of his way to really achieve his goal? These questions followed him into his nightly meditations and Daimao's memories haunted them until he awoke.

_I know I didn't touch on Kami interacting with Piccolo Jr.'s life, but I felt a little backstory would be good before I brought that into play, hope it's intrigued you._

_Elieare_


	2. Chapter 2: Falling

**Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ.**

_I wanna get this story rolling._

**Chapter 2: Falling**

Piccolo Jr. remained in the city, observing humans from the shadows, but he didn't watch anyone as closely anymore. He was still in turmoil about what he had witnessed, he didn't need another drama taunting him. His curiosity still pushed him to rebel against Daimao, but he wasn't as adamant about it anymore. The most pressing things Daimao gave him were the nightmares and the dislike of orange.

One day he was on the outskirts of town. It wasn't as crowded as the rest of the city and there were mostly houses, a few little shops and one skyscraper. He squatted on the edge of the skyscraper, looking down on all the activity below. Something caught his attention: a boy in an orange shirt. It wasn't just orange this time though; the feeling was much stronger. Black hair, he had black hair. Why would that matter? The boy started laughing. That's what triggered it.

Memories about a boy with crazy black hair and an orange gi flooded his mind. What was his name? A sickening feeling dropped his stomach. He snapped back to reality enough to realize he had fallen of the skyscraper and was plummeting towards the ground. Panic ripped through him, he had to remember how to fly-now. But when he tried to remember all he could think of was that crazy-haired orange clad warrior. He saw the boy angry, attacking, but not through his own eyes. Something told him it was through Tambourine. Who was that though? No he had to focus on flying. Instead he saw the boy again. This time though it appeared he killed him to take a Dragon Ball. His name, what was it? Go…Go-something.

He faced the boy again, the anger was still there, but there he was also more confidence. He fought this boy viciously- no, Daimao fought this boy. As Piccolo Jr. hit the shop that was next to the skyscraper, the boy tore through Daimao's chest and he remembered: Son Goku, I will have my revenge.

**~/*\~**

Piccolo Jr. woke up in a house, his head bandaged and his arm in a sling. When he sat up, his back hurt him, but it wasn't above his tolerance. He was confused. After a while, a woman walked in, she was genuinely glad he was awake. Piccolo Jr.'s instincts told him to have nothing to do with her, but she was nice, and he was curious why she had helped him. He knew that his resemblance to Daimao was uncanny, that's why he had remained hidden.

He spent the next couple of weeks with the woman. More and more of Daimao's abilities were coming to him, his fighting abilities at least. The memory of Goku had made them easier to access. Along with them though came something more confusing- emotions. Yes he had felt them before, but before he could always tell which one's were his and which one's where Daimao's. Now it was starting to blur. He was going through a growth spurt too. It was painful, even his body that regenerated quickly, was not meant to grow so fast. His meditations became almost ineffective, which made him feel tired. At the worst part of his growth spurt, he couldn't even move and he slipped into feverish delusions.

The woman took care of him the entire time. He was only vaguely aware of this through fleeting moments of lucidity, but he knew it was true. He knew he would mumble about Daimao and what his sire showed him, but she didn't recoil, she just comforted him, made him feel safe.

As the growth spurt ended he felt stronger than before, his mind more acute. The woman treated him no different. He thought about the son who pushed his father out the window. He watched the woman more closely to see if there was some hidden agenda, but he couldn't see it. She reminded him more of the father who argued with but was proud of his son. Maybe the son who'd killed had been rare- maybe humans weren't that bad at all.

Then one night he was out in the forest near the house, practicing his fighting techniques. His dull _chi_ senses picked up a group heading for the house. This wasn't too unusual, groups of campers often passed but the house, but this was different. He hadn't quite mastered the technique enough to know what felt wrong about their _chi_, just that there was something off.

Uneasy, but curious, Piccolo Jr. crept to the edge of the forest and looked at the house. There was a large group of men with torches and guns, they all seemed angry. The woman he was staying with stood opposite of the mob, blocking the door to the house. His sensitive ears picked up their conversation.

"…he's not what you think he is," the woman spoke.

One of the men, the apparent leader, replied, "He's one of Daimao's minions! He's fooling you!"

"He's just a boy!"

"Ha! He's a demon, and your no better for protecting him! Now let us in, Goku killed their leader, now we have to get rid of all the leftovers!"

The crowd rallied behind this, Goku's name came up again.

The woman bellowed, "YOU CAN'T DO THIS! I DON'T' KNOW GOKU, BUT I DOUBT HE'D WANT TO SLAUGHTER CHILDREN!"

The mob didn't hear her words, chants of, "Death to demons," and "Follow Goku's lead," drowned out her protests.

The leader spoke again. "Out of the way! Move and we'll just take the demon's life, stay and we'll take yours too."

The woman refused to move. The mob overpowered her and pushed her into the house with them. Things crashed and broke until someone yelled, "He's hiding!"

"Fine then," the leader spoke, "set the place on fire, if he's here, he'll burn, if he's not he'll have no place to stay in our city!"

Piccolo's nose twitched as the stench of gasoline stung it.

The house went up in flames, the mob watching it from a distance, yelling in triumph. The woman's screams cut into Piccolo Jr.'s eardrums as she burned to death.

Piccolo Jr. watched, shock hit him first, and then the stoic demeanor he would master later in life took over. His face darkened, and fists clenched. His mouth curled in disgust, "Pathetic humans." Piccolo Jr.'s voice sounded eerily like his sire's. However, unlike Daimao, he turned and walked away, growling, "Let the pigs roll in their own filth." He thought, "_How they idolize you Goku-no- Son. They worship you, make you sound so righteous." _He sneered, "_I wonder what they'll think when I mutilate you, when I kill you with my own hands. Those fools! Just wait maggots, if you think my father was terrifying, you'll think I contain all of Hell itself!"_

He pictured the son pushing his father out the window, but this time, he was the son and Daimao was the father, "Sorry dad, you're in my way."

**~/*****On the Lookout*****\~**

Kami had been watching the spawn of his worst half for a while now. He had been pleased with his progress and had turned his attention to Goku for a little while. When he looked back Piccolo Jr. had taken a turn for the worse. He paused for a moment, knowing that he should do something. His pride told him it wasn't his fault. He tried to logically back this thought up by telling himself, that as Guardian, he had bigger responsibilities then one twisted little boy.

He was almost walked away, it would have been easy too, but his conscience weighed too heavily on him. He had to do something. So he decided to go down to Earth, something he hadn't done in so long he couldn't remember when he did it last.

"What the hell do you want old man?"

If Kami was an easily amused man he would of laughed at the sight of a three-year-old looking boy trying to look as intimidating as possible. Kami's face remained stern though.

Kami spoke as monotone as he could, "You recently started masking your presence."

The young Piccolo snorted, "Obviously not well enough."

Kami decided to cut right to the chase and grinned, "You've been alive for a couple months now. You put on a good act like Daimao, but your heart is different."

"Ha! Your mind must be deteriorating faster than I thought if you think I didn't inherit my father's anger and hate," he clenched his feet.

Kami clenched his cane a little harder, "No, I didn't say that. I still feel your anger and hate in your heart, but it's different Ma Junior. You don't take pleasure in other people's suffering the way Daimao did. His memories haunt you."

"Shut up! You don't know me at all!"

"Yes I do! I feel the pain and fear you do when you dream about Daimao! I feel your reluctance when he tells you what he wants you to ultimately do!"

"NO! I will rule this world one day! And I will destroy Son, I HAVE TO!"

"You don't have to do anything! You could defend this world instead!"

"Why the hell would I do that? Every person on this damned planet hates me! Fears me, they want me dead! So why would I save them? They can be left to the same faint they left me!"

Kami sighed, "And that is precisely why you are not Daimao, Ma Junior. You do not hate the people of Earth for no reason, nor do you want to kill for fun. You actually-"

"Don't tell me what I am or am not! You of all people have absolutely no right to pretend to help me. You never know could bring yourself to deal with my father when he was a part of you, what makes you think I can believe you want to help me now when we don't even share the same body?"

Kami had to keep his pride in check again, "I was negligent before…but I won't make that mistake again."

That set off an unexpected reaction in the boy, "I'm NOT A MISTAKE!" Piccolo Jr., who had not yet learned to control his emotions bellowed and charged at his godly half. Kami, although stunned, flicked the boy away much like he had Goku.

Piccolo Jr. skidded on the floor then immediately sprung back up, shooting a _chi _blast to lead his second charge. Kami was caught off guard and took the blast. He momentarily lost sight of the boy, but instinctively dodged his incoming kick. Kami reflexively struck Piccolo Jr. with his cane. He shivered as he felt the crack of the young one's skull. His evil counterpart slammed to the ground and rolled, unconscious when he stopped.

Kami shook, he did not enjoy violence or fighting. He could do it, but he did not like to, and he certainly didn't mean for this to end in violence. Kami surveyed the injury he received. He decided it was a good thing he chose to get involved, the boy had only been alive for a short period of time, and he was already nearing Kami's power level. Kami looked at the boy and gulped, sweat beaded on his forehead, "If I fail to help you, I'm not sure even Goku can stop you."

He picked up the boy and teleported back his Palace.

"Oh! Kami, you're injured!" Mr. Popo greeted.

Kami grinned, "It's nothing Mr. Popo, take our young guest to the room near my chambers. I will meditate and check on the Earth until he wakes up. Oh and don't let him interact with Goku." The Guardian handed the unconscious Piccolo to his trusted companion and walked to the throne room.

Mr. Popo looked at the unconscious demon-spawn in his hands and said to himself, "I hope you know what you're getting yourself into Kami."

_Oh wow this chapter became really long. Well it was worth it. I hope you enjoy it! _

_Elieare_


	3. Chapter 3: The Path not Taken

**Disclaimer: I'm not sure I own my life, but I know I don't own the rights to DBZ.**

_I do greatly appreciate reviews, it's the only way I know what you readers think about my little story._

**Chapter 3: The Path not Taken**

Kami looked into Piccolo Jr.'s mind while the boy was unconscious. He witnessed the events that had led to this sudden turn in his personality development. Kami took in a deep breath and sighed, humans were very unpredictable. They meant well for the most part, and the mob mentality was always so powerful to them. But they had dealt damage to Piccolo that would be hard to undo. Especially focusing his rage on Goku, that would be the hardest to remedy. Yet Kami knew it had to be remedied, because Goku showed an unusual talent for turning former enemies into allies, friends even.

Kami rubbed his temples as he tried to figure out what he could possibly do. He was almost tempted to collect the Dragon Balls and erase all of Piccolo Jr.'s memories, even the ones from Daimao, but he had a feeling that wouldn't work. It either wouldn't be in the Dragon's power, or Daimao would find a way to reassert his memories. He even debated just killing him now while he was weaker and manageable. That would end all the trouble, except the Earth would be without a Guardian. He had every intention train Goku as his replacement, but he wasn't entirely sure Goku'd be willing to do it.

Frustrated, Kami returned his attention to the Earth below, although the back of his mind was still devoted to Piccolo.

The humans he was watching actually gave him the inspiration he needed. They were con artists, weaving their victim in an elaborate hoax to steal all of that person's money. Kami gently nudged a detective in the criminal's directions, and then returned his mind to the Palace. He had a deep connection with Piccolo, each could potential see into the other's head. However, they trained themselves to avoid the intrusion, but Piccolo was still too young to do this effectively.

Kami entered the boy's mind, happy to find little defenses to stop him. He then began a scenario to play out while Piccolo was unconscious. He would imagine that he'd escape from the Lookout, to a place where Kami could not find him, and he would train there until the next Budokai. There, he would fight until finally he went up against Goku. He would struggle with Goku in a vicious battle, until Kami would allow Piccolo to kill Goku. It would be tricky, Kami would have to constantly change things in order to react and cope with Piccolo's decisions. If Piccolo felt he was just along for a ride, some strange dream, it wouldn't have any effect. No, Piccolo had to believe that it was all real, at least until Kami could evaluate the boy's reaction to Goku's death. He had a feeling the boy wouldn't be satisfied, but he had to make sure before he even attempted to introduce Piccolo to Goku in real life.

Kami warned Mr. Popo that he would be unresponsive for at least a couple of days, maybe longer, but he could not be disturbed and he would not be harmed. He gave Goku a difficult training mission that would take him at least a week to complete, and then he embarked on his endeavor.

**/~**~\**

Kami had no idea how much time had passed in the real world, but within the two minds, three years had passed. All was going well, there had been some rough spots, but nothing so dire as to tip Piccolo off to what was really going on. The Tournament was proving the most difficult. It was hard to decide who to have Piccolo fight prior to Goku, it was even harder to choose who his fake Goku would fight. He knew he had to do it though, in order to allow Piccolo a chance to evaluate Goku and believe everything was true. The actual battle between Goku and Piccolo was even more difficult. Kami couldn't allow Piccolo to win too easily, but at the same time, he couldn't overwhelm Piccolo into believing that Goku would win. Kami was relieved when he finally saw the opportunity to allow Piccolo to kill Goku, he even made Goku attempt a hasty counter that injured Piccolo, but didn't stop him.

When Piccolo confirmed that Goku was dead, he was confident, and put on a show that he had thoroughly enjoyed killing the orange clad warrior, but Kami could feel what Piccolo really felt. And Piccolo felt nothing, no satisfaction whatsoever. He was still just as conflicted, just as angry, and just as hateful as he had been before. Kami worried for a second, until something else developed. The hate for Goku disappeared, and instead, the hate fell onto Daimao, and even Piccolo Jr. himself, for wasting his life on something that wouldn't give it meaning, for wasting his life on something he always knew wouldn't give it meaning.

That was when Kami dropped the deception. Everything melted away and he allowed himself appear. Piccolo Jr. was again a boy. He looked around, confused, and then he locked eyes on Kami and spat, "So you're behind this eh old man? What's wrong? You couldn't stand me defeating your precious little protégé?"

Kami shook his head, "It was all in our minds Piccolo, I wanted to show you where your path of vengeance would lead you."

"Pah, bull shit. We both know you can't see the future. So if none of that was real, then you didn't prove anything. It was all a fabrication, false events, false emotions, designed to make me recant my decision to follow my father's footsteps in my own way."

Kami shook his head, "I never manipulated your emotions, we both know that is beyond my power. And I made sure that any change I made did not push you in any direction you didn't want to go. You know that emptiness of Goku's death was as real as if it had happened."

Kami felt a little bit of hatred directed towards Kami, but the need for vengeance that burned him before wasn't there. This was an improvement, but hardly the end goal. Piccolo Jr. was still dangerous and hostile towards the human race. He needed a friend now, much like the woman had been for him. That was something Kami couldn't do, not with all the animosity between them, but at least he had opened the door for Goku.

"When you wake up you'll be in a room in my palace. It is a special room, in that whoever occupies it may not leave without my express permission. If you try, magic will make it quite impossible for you to pass through the door. You can try to get passed anyways but it would be a waste of effort."

"So I'm your prisoner eh old man?"

"I do not take prisoners brat," Kami paused to reel in his momentary anger, "it is for your own good."

"Whatever, just get the hell out of my head," Piccolo Jr. snarled.

Kami wanted to stay, but the boy's mental defenses decided to grow, and Kami had spent so much energy creating the false scenario, he could not stop himself from being ousted back into his old mind. Kami panted hard from the exertion. He looked at the calendar Mr. Popo kept near his throne. An entire week had passed. He wanted nothing more to rest, but he knew he had left the Earth unchecked for too long. He spent a day righting the planet below as much as possible and then slipped into deep meditations.

_I hope this chapter wasn't too boring. Next chapter I'll introduce Goku into the fray. Can Piccolo really drop his vengeance with Goku? And can Goku contain his anger for Piccolo in order to help him out?_

_Elieare_


End file.
